Of Sweetly Short Memories
by i-am-mudblood
Summary: Short oneshot featuring Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet; a sweet little moment in the grass in which the two discuss their views on men and women.


A/N: Hey guys! I don't usually stray out of my a:tla fandom so this is a first for me. Although this will be under "Book: Pride and Prejudice" I'm basing this on the 2005 version movie. I understand that many of you are true Jane Austen - lovers and I'm not sure if you guys will see this as one of those annoying "hey look she posted for the movie rather than the original, classic book" type of thing, and I'm truly sorry if this is offensive. I absolutely fell in love with the movie - so much so, in fact, that I've purchased the original novel and am planning to read it.

Moving on: this is a oneshot featuring Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet a few days after marriage; very short. I hope you enjoy it. Please read and review!

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Her arms were crossed, her brunette hair let down for once and scattered about her shoulders. A book in her folded lap, tickled by long, wiry grass that blew with the wind. She was always reading, he thought, and he let a small smile adorn his features.

"Must you always watch me when I am reading?" she asked, her gaze still locked on her novel. She finished a page and folded it delicately, turning some to give him an amused smirk. With the shift of her head, her hair changed course and swept up into the breeze.

Darcy couldn't help but tuck a stray strand behind her ear. "I can't help it. My eyes do wander, and where they might linger is not of my control."

Elizabeth closed her book. "What a curious expression you are wearing, Mr. Darcy. May I ask what you're thinking?"

"I am not one to be so openly emotional, Lizzy," he replied, leaning back on his hands. Though the grass was relatively rough, he enjoyed how sleek and soft it felt.

"Your wife implores you," she said, and she moved closer so that she may lie near him, under his shade. The term 'wife' was still new to Elizabeth; they'd married only a fortnight ago. She found the title to be both a happy one as well as an endlessly permanent one.

Mr. Darcy was as gentlemanly as ever, although she did wish he could show his love a tad more openly. There was no doubt he adored her; he put her on a pedestal and more than once had he held her and whispered in her ear sweet nothings that she tucked away so eagerly. Yet he was still a regal and wealthy man, and no doubt with the same personality. Uptight and slightly introverted, Darcy was still a man of many mysteries.

When he did not answer her, Elizabeth sighed and rolled over, facing him. "Mr. Darcy, how incredibly dull you can be. Just once, let me into your thoughts!"

"I'm thinking of women, Miss Elizabeth," he replied, not meeting her eye.

She blew a strand of hair from her face. "How very crude." Elizabeth sat up and smoothed her skirts. "Such a broad topic, and a boring one as well. Why not think of the weather or the sky?"

"I prefer to keep my thoughts simple."

"If I didn't know any better, sir, I'd say you just called yourself simple-minded." She smiled wickedly as he turned to her. Before he could speak, she continued on. "I often think about men. They are all so different—it's rather puzzling. Some are hideous things; foul creatures whom I am convinced roam the earth to chase skirts in a most scandalous way. Stupid beings who know not the difference between good literature and bad music."

Mr. Darcy watched her with scrutinizing eyes. How passionately she spoke, which he admired so, although he feared she might be referring to himself.

She then turned to him and grasped his hand. "And then there are others."

He opened his mouth, but she continued on.

"Beautiful men, handsome in every meaning of the word. Those of intellect and opinion. Those who perceive music and arts in such a way that make my heart swoon, and whose soul can be read through the portal of their very eyes."

They kissed under the shade of the giant oak.

As she pulled away, Elizabeth watched his lips. "What is it you think of women, Mr. Darcy?"

"I find that there are only two types of women in this world," he replied, and his wife leaned forth to hear his sweet words. "There are those that can play the pianoforte, and those that cannot."


End file.
